


Big D**** Heroes

by LadyLan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Firefly References, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-01 06:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5194901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLan/pseuds/LadyLan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd won the battle but lost the war. Now, floating on the edges of space Captain Goku's goals were simple: find a crew, find a job, keep flying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I don't have an original thought in my head. SO: In the same vein as Pandemic, I give you another DBZ Fanfic Posing As Just a Straight Rip-Off from A Popular TV Show. In this show's case, it was cancelled far too soon. Do you hear me? TOO SOON.
> 
> So much thanks to R.C. McLachlan for her beta work. She's forty-two kinds of awesome and I can't say enough good things about her.

… Big Damn Heroes ...

The report played on the holoscreen, filling the common area with reports of rebel attacks and starving border planets all the while bathing the cramped quarters in dull, grey light.

Goku stood near the screen, despite Chichi's warnings that standing too close was bad for his eyesight. Arms crossed, his listened with a furrowed brow as images blipped past. Imprisoned rebels who'd fought for the Alliance. Children shivering, starving, robbed of the better life they'd been promised, of the better life he'd fought for. His fists balled as the images stopped, only to be replaced by the Council.

A coffee cup hit the holoscreen and the image blurred before disappearing entirely.

"Quit watching that," 18 said, her steely voice calm as she plucked the coffee mug she'd tossed just moments before from the floor. "It'll just piss you off."

Wiping the mug's rim on her shirt, she set to work mixing a cup of coffee. Goku shook his head, a feeble attempt to clear away the images that haunted him.

"Sorry. I just - "

"I know," 18 interrupted. "I figured when we fought for the Alliance against the Colds we'd be making the 'verse a better place, too."

They hadn't, and both stood in silent reflection of that fact for a long moment, somber tension gripping the air. Resembling statues from their war-tattered past, frozen in thought, 18 brought the coffee to her lips but didn't drink. Just let the steam warm her hands and face. She hated the instant crap but their pantry was in a sad state, and anything resembling proper coffee from Earth – dark and rich as opposed to this bland, caffeinated powder – required a shopping trip. And a shopping trip required credits.

Goku wasn't thinking of coffee, but his mind hadn't strayed far from 18's own reflections. "What for dinner?" he asked, and 18's lips curved to a frown on the lip of her mug.

"Chichi's pod hasn't docked yet, so shit, most likely."

Goku's face fell. No one aboard could spin pantry rations the way Chichi could. Before he could groan in displeasure, the sound of heavy boots on metal rungs sounded, and Bulma was lifting herself up the ladder, sauntering to the kitchen, and prying open a sack of bread. The paper rustled as she removed a piece and, spinning on one booted heel, she turned and took a bite. It took a good bit of jawing to chew since the bread was tough and her bite loutishly large. Blue eyes shifting from Goku to 18 and back to Goku again, she said through a mouthful of bread,"Shit. You two weren't watching the news again?"

18 opened her mouth to confirm, but Goku laughed and said,"Just discussing how it was Krillin's night to cook since Chichi's not back yet."

Bulma took another bite. More manageable this time, in case she was required to speak. Instead of chatting, however, she eyed the coffee. How long had it been since she'd last slept, Bulma wondered. She was glad for the scarcity of mirrors aboard, because she could see her coveralls were more oil than cloth, and running a hand over the crown of her head revealed that some of her unruly curls had escaped their bun. She needed a shower, but even though she'd rigged Shenron a temporary compression coil the thruster needed constant monitoring as it was hanging on its last thread. So no sleep and no shower, and considering Krillin was supposed to cook, probably no dinner either.

"We need to get real coffee," Bulma noted, plucking the package of instant mix and frowning at the animals grinning back at her from the foil. They would resemble pandas from Earth if it weren't for the long arms with curling talons. "And I need to find a junk yard. Shenron's not going to make it much further without a new CC, and the thrusters need charging."

"And yet she lists coffee first," 18 muttered.

Tearing at the package with her teeth, Bulma made a face. It looked like 18 might've been upset with her, but then again 18 always looked to be upset with something so it was hard to tell.

Goku leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling with a tired expression. "How much longer does she have?"

"I don't know. Not much longer. She's on her last legs. The thrusters'll work so long as we can keep bouncing microwaves around, but the waves can only be generated using electricity." She motioned to the recessed lighting but neither one of them followed the gesture. As she had a habit of doing, Bulma kept talking, "The power's running low and the backups require solar energy to charge; it's been months since you've let Shenron see a sun."

"Can we make it to Carthage Y?"

Bulma blinked, calculating the distance. "I think so."

"Good." Goku grinned, like she'd promised it would be no problem. Which she hadn't. Bulma bit her lower lip.

"We should stop sooner, Goku. Like two days ago."

"We'll make it to Carthage Y and you can charge the…" He scratched his head. "The engine-thing."

Goku was an easy sort of person to place blind faith in. He was strong and affable and had a knack for getting the job done, whatever it was. And even though Bulma was his earliest friend – from way, way back when Earth was still around and the stars blinking up from space were just old lights and not a place to call home – she was too smart for blind faith. Sure, she'd teamed up as his mechanic and genius-of-all-trades when he'd come knocking, even though there were a billion better things she could be doing. Yet her heart went out to the guy who'd named his aging ship after a legendary dragon from their home world - a dragon who could make wishes come true. A sentiment they needed because, honestly, hardly anything had gone their way since the war ended.

A lighter set of boots clamored up the ladder rungs. The common area was small, but it could seat six comfortably enough around the single metal table, and could more than accommodate the four of them.

"Good!" Goku said. "Everyone's here."

"Chichi's not here," Bulma corrected, biting off another hunk of bread. With a chipped nail, she picked at the dry oil splotch covering her right knee. She must've knelt in something... "If she were, we'd have dinner ready."

Goku carried on ignoring her, even if his stomach knotted at the mention of food. "Since we're all here, it's as good a time as any to tell you I've decided to take on another crew member."

"What?!" Bulma shrieked, eyes wide and no longer focused on her soiled outfit. "We're already dividing our rations into fifths! We aren't going to be able to pick up any more jobs if…"

"We need another fighter if we're going to pick up Burter's job. Right now, we don't have enough manpower for his missions. But, with a bit of extra muscle around here we can go for the more dangerous jobs. And the more dangerous the job, the bigger the payout."

Krillin cleared his throat. He'd put the ship on autopilot to grab a glass of water, not for this. But such was the nature of ship life with Goku as captain. He rubbed his forehead and offered, "Why don't we put it to a vote? I vote no."

"Definitely not. No way," Bulma chimed in agreement.

Goku turned toward the final member of the room. "18?"

Exhaling through her nose, her lips shifted to one side and she shrugged a single shoulder. "Yes."

Krillin's eyes widened. "You're siding with him?"

"I'm not siding with anyone," she said, voice cool. "I'm doing what's best. It's rough out there, with just Goku and I running jobs. Another person could make things easier."

Krillin looked crestfallen. He wasn't the best muscle, sure, but it wasn't just her and Goku doing jobs. He and Bulma helped around every corner, and he'd proved time and time again that he was resourceful and quick on his feet.

"Well it's still a tie," Bulma said. "We'll have to wait and let Chichi decide."

…

"Okay," Chichi said, nodding primly and pouring two cups of tea before taking a seat at the metal table. It was far too sterile for the warm setup Chichi had put together - a porcelain pot and a pair of little cups, a red vase with real flowers she'd picked up on some central planet, and a box of sweets which Bulma had already helped herself to. "If Goku's jobs need another set of hands and he's sure it will generate more income, then that works."

Bulma groaned and leaned back in the chair. They were only minutes from docking on Carthage Y and she thought she could secure Chichi's vote by catching her before the remainder of the crew came to breakfast. Returning during the night and staying in her pod, Chichi hadn't had a chance to be swayed by Goku just yet. Unfortunately for Bulma, it hadn't taken any of Goku's signature brand of charm for Chichi to agree to inviting another crew member aboard.

"Where is Goku?" Chichi asked, and Bulma tried to bite back her smile at the nonchalance injected in Chichi's tone despite the longing in her eyes.

"He's gone to meet Burter for a new job." Burter had been one of the key players in the Cold regime before the rebellion. The rebellion that Bulma had helped fight in. The rebellion that replaced one overload with a council of them. Many of the soldiers who'd been Frieza's lackeys were now criminals, those doing shady jobs under the table. Some had swapped sides and served in the Alliance's army. Others had disappeared entirely. Either captured or killed or, perhaps even, leading normal lives. But Burter's fate had somehow wound up twisting with their own.

Glancing out one of the two port windows in the common room gave Bulma a glimpse of Carthage Y. It was all stark concrete and smooth glass. Hard angles and towers reaching toward the sky. She hated this place. If she were going to bother being planet-side, she at least wanted the satisfying crunch of dirt beneath her boots. Krillin was on the supply run and she'd given him detailed instructions, which included a sketch of the compression coil Shenron needed. While 18 assisted Goku in picking up the details for their latest job, Bulma had been tasked to stay behind and watch the ship. Which was fine, since she had to wait by the engine anyway, monitoring the charge of the thruster.

The two of them sat in silence, their thoughts bouncing between the captain and the mission, and how they'd once again been left to ship-sit. Chichi sipped her tea and Bulma blew across the steaming surface of her own drink when there was a knock on the door. With twin expressions of panic, they locked gazes.

"Who could that be?" Bulma wondered aloud as Chichi reached for the knife she kept at her hip. Climbing to her feet, Bulma made her way to the ladder, pausing at the top rung to say, "Wait here."

"I'll go. They'll be less suspicious with me here."

Bulma frowned. "Perhaps, but I need you to try and signal Goku while I stall them. If it's someone who might be swayed by having you aboard, I'll bring them up. If not… Well, it's best you stay unseen."

Without waiting on a response, Bulma climbed down, skipping the bottom rungs in favor of dropping herself to the ground and racing quickly to the main door.

Another spattering of knocks, far less patient this time, made Bulma inhale. She plastered on her best innocent smile, and opened the door. It was like she'd stepped onto a planet without having calibrated the gravity first. Her boots were welded to the ground and her insides had dropped into her feet. Her heartbeat drummed against her ribs in dizzying panic, she wanted to run but she was caught in a temporary paralysis.

Vegeta, Frieza's former henchman and once known as the terror of the universe, stood on the other side. With her brain in self-preservation mode, she slammed the door back into its frame and threw her back against it, panting and trying her hardest to collect her jumbled thoughts. A difficult feat. As much genius as her brain held, it was like all her intelligence had been tossed into a blender and set on high.

There was another knock and she steeled herself against the door, eyes clenched shut and toes digging into the floor, as though that were all it took to hold Vegeta off.

Vegeta.

Holy fuck.

Sensing his impatience and catching onto the fact that he wasn't going anywhere, Bulma pulled back and cracked Shenron's door open just enough to catch a glimpse of his steely profile. His skin was olive, his white chest plate impeccably clean. She was suddenly aware of how soiled her clothes were and how full his lower lip was.

Which was a stupid thing to be thinking of, but she watched his lip pull into a snarl with a high level of appreciation because, terror of the universe of not, she hadn't expected any of Frieza's former lackeys to be so…

"Going to slam the door in my face again?"

She gave an innocently timed blinked. "Thinking about it."

And then his foot was between the door and the frame and it didn't take much force on his part to pry it open.

"We have papers." Well, papers from Burter which were a death sentence to the Alliance, most likely. But Vegeta, enemy though he was, wasn't a member of the Alliance. "We're cleared to land here," she said, and hated herself for the tremor in her voice.

He looked past her. At her, but through her. "I have a meeting with Kakarot."

Kakarot. Goku's saiyan name. "A meeting with Goku?" But he'd only mentioned the meeting with Burter planet-side. Thoughtless oaf Goku though was, surely he'd think to mention: hey, Bulma, the terrifying, murderous prince of my people might be dropping by. Unless this wasn't a planned meeting.

But Vegeta walked past her and down the narrow hallway to where the control room sat on one side, the engine room on the other, and the ladder leading to the common area rising at its end. Vegeta grabbed hold of the ladder with one hand and Bulma snapped,

"What the hell are you doing?"

He paused, looked at her, and his mouth flexed into a frown before he realized she wasn't worthy of a response. He rested his foot on the bottom rung.

"Stop! You can't go up there."

"Oh?" Something akin to amusement crossed his features. "Are you going to stop me?"

Bulma's eyes narrowed and she fought the urge to stamp her foot. What could she do? She couldn't physically stop him, but she could…

"We have a Companion on board."

Contempt marred his features.

"I'm not suggesting you sleep with her, idiot. I'm just saying…." Her voice trailed, and she looked up to find him watching her expectantly. "Well. I'm not sure what I'm saying. But you can't go up there."

Then the door opened. Goku and 18 were walking down the hallway, and Bulma breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, hey Vegeta! You made it." Goku said it like having a man who'd obliterated planets was the most normal thing in the universe.

"What the actual fuck," she muttered while Vegeta released the ladder and scoffed.

"You need better security aboard this pathetic vessel."

"Hey now, Shenron isn't pathetic," Bulma defended at the same moment Goku said, "Security? Oh. You mean Bulma? Ha. Hardly. She's more like the greeting party."

Vegeta looked unimpressed. Goku looked like he didn't know people could be unhappy in his presence.

"Let's go up so you can meet the rest of the crew."

And so Bulma found herself seated at the table with a terrified Chichi, while 18 stood in one corner with her arms crossed, Vegeta in the other mirroring her stance. Goku stood near the head of the table, smiling.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but the ship's got loads of charm. Plus, she flies straight and fast and hasn't let me down yet."

Bulma would need more than two hands to count how many times they'd been let down, but she just stood there, watching Vegeta. Goku had been stronger than Frieza, so surely he was stronger than Vegeta. If Vegeta tried anything… No. It didn't matter. She'd be killed in the crossfire. And looking like crap, too.

"I don't require bells and whistles. You've secured a job from Burter?"

"Oh yeah. And it's a doozy. Definitely going to need your help to pull it off." Goku looked from 18 to Bulma to Chichi. "Have you met my crew? They're a pretty bunch, right? Krillin's still out running errands, but..." Vegeta looked like he was going to have an aneurism. "Why don't we step down to the control room? We can discuss the details more, ah, privately."

When they were both gone, Bulma shot up from her chair. "Vegeta? What the hell is Goku thinking?"

"Surely he's not the muscle Goku was thinking of hiring?" Chichi echoed. 18 just stood still, glaring in the direction in which the two men had disappeared.

The trio waited in silence until Krilln's head appeared at the ladder, flashing two rows of teeth in a blinding grin. "Hey ladies," he greeted. "I got coffee aaaaand," he reached out and handed Bulma a metal part about the size of a femur. "It's a compression coil! Do I deliver or what?"

Bulma took the coil, her expression bleak. It was an older model. She'd specifically told him to get the model with a white tip and… She'd be furious later. For now, her hands clenched around the part and she stared at the wall.

...

Vegeta read over the script on the scrap of paper he'd been handed, something like a frown touching his expression. Goku hadn't spent a lot of time around Vegeta, but now that he thought about it, the other man never looked particularly happy. Maybe living aboard Shenron would help shake off some of that saltiness.

When Vegeta's jaw tightened, Goku felt his smile fall a fraction but he held it up as best he could. The grin hurt, but the effort was worth it when Vegeta glanced up and snarled,

"This came from Burter?"

"Yep. Picked up the specifics just a few minutes ago."

"Hn." Vegeta's fingers tightened around the paper and it crumpled in his grasp. "And you believe him?"

"Burter? Sure. What's not to believe?"

The disdain radiating from Vegeta was palpable. Goku couldn't recall standing in the presence of someone so intense before. Not even Frieza had worn his fury on his sleeve. Vegeta's spine was straight, posture impeccable, and though Goku knew the prince's general backstory he failed to understand what could make someone so… mad.

Slamming the paper on the control panel, but not quite letting up his glare on it, Vegeta said, "I believed Zarbon to be dead, for starters."

"Nope. Burter said he's on Ugorji, just waiting for the delivery."

Vegeta's expression was suddenly curious. "And how do you intend to transport something so large on this ship?"

"Aw, now, I can't give all my secrets away before you're a member of my crew. You see, then there's nothing stopping you from getting the job from Burter and carrying it out yourself."

"Hn." Vegeta's glare hardened. "I don't have a ship."

"You seem capable of getting your hands on one. Course, it won't be as fast as Shenron."

"Fine. I'm in. Not on your crew, mind you, but I'll stay long enough to complete the mission."

"Alright!" Goku cheered, his grin nearly splitting his face in half. "Welcome aboard, Vegeta!"

There was a crackle of energy as he slapped the other man on the back. Yep. He'd definitely have to work on Vegeta's people skills.

...

She slipped around the corner in the silent manner she was known for. They called her the Panther in the old days. Well, one soldier had called her the Panter. Most snarled and referred to her as an Android, but that was because they believed her a rather unfeeling bitch. She might not've had a lot to give a damn about, but she definitely wasn't unfeeling.

Sighing through her nose, she spied their pilot hunched over a pair of figurines.

"Playing with toys again?"

Krillin's head shot up and he flashed her a lopsided grin that did things to her knees that she couldn't explain. "There's my warrior princess," he said in lieu of greeting, and though she shot him a warning look she draped herself across the chair next to him. Krillin let the figurines fall. "So, you're close with Goku."

She frowned. "I'm not close with anyone."

"Except me," he amended.

She rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"18, what is he thinking?"

"Haven't a fucking clue, but it's Goku, he's smart –" Krillin cut her words short with a lifted brow and she amended, "Okay, maybe not the best word choice, but he's… Goku. He has a reason. In his own way, he knows what he's doing."

...

"Alright guys, let me introduce the newest member of our squad –"

"I'm not a member of your pathetic crew."

"– Vegeta!"

The other two occupants of the room just sat, mouths agape, tea cups forgotten. Chichi blinked and recovered first,

"Er, welcome aboard, Vegeta."

He didn't look at her for long. She was the companion he'd been warned about. His gaze flickered over to the blue-haired woman he'd already had the displeasure of meeting. She sneered at him. He sneered back.

"Bulma, why don't you show Vegeta to his room."

Bulma's gaze snapped to Goku. "But he's…"

"He's one of us now."

Vegeta looked ready to contradict that statement, but she got to her feet with a huff and led him down the ladder, still holding the part in one hand.

Once they'd disappeared, Chichi shook her head.

"Goku. You can't be serious."

"He might've fought for the Colds, but that was ages ago, Chichi." The biting sound of metal scraping against metal made her skin crawl. He spun the chair and straddled it so he was sitting with his chest against the backrest. Not for the first time, he reminded her of an endearing little boy playing space captain. He leaned forward so that the chair balanced precariously on its two back legs. "Vegeta's not our enemy; he has no allegiances."

"That makes him dangerous."

"No. It makes him like us. And he needs us, Chichi. He needs someone to make sure he stays on the right path. He's a saiyan, like me."

"He might not know you killed Frieza," Chichi said, biting her lip. It still felt unreal to be seated in his company when thinking of him like the big damn hero he was. It was difficult at times to remember what a fierce warrior he was, and yet what a decent man he was, wanting none of the fame or victory that came with it. "But he still knows you fought for the Alliance."

"That was a long time ago. People change."

"He hasn't changed."

"He has," Goku said, still smiling. "Trust me."

As Chichi shook her head and reached for her cup, she could anticipate the shifting of his thoughts.

"What's for dinner?"

…

She kicked open the door to the only empty room Shenron had to offer. It swung with a hiss. Planting a hand on her hip, Bulma narrowed her gaze at the ship's newest resident. Crew member. Whatever he was.

"Bathroom's at the end of the hall, and you've seen the common room. We're on rations until we get paid for Burter's job, so I hope you don't mind stale bread and canned protein."

He glanced around the room, disdain in his eyes. He didn't looked displeased by the quarters, but he certainly wasn't going to be thanking her anytime soon. Bulma opened her mouth to say something – that she didn't like him? didn't trust him? thought Goku was an idiot for inviting him there to quite probably murder them all their sleep? – but she stopped herself. He didn't look lost, but well, he looked… something. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Well…" she floundered, finishing lamely with, "enjoy."

He didn't entertain her with a glance, so Bulma turned on her heel and left. Then she lowered the door and kicked it for good measure, thankful she was wearing her steel-toed boots.

There was the matter of making an ill-fitting compression coil fit and the perilous mission Burter was sending them on to worry over. Vegeta was a complication, sure, but hardly the most interesting obstacle she had to deal with today. And so, clapping her hands together as though she could dust the issue away, she made the short trek back to the engine room, compression coil swinging at her side.


	2. Chapter 2

Watching Nappa clip his toenails.

Listening to Raditz list the pros and cons of manscaping.

Getting the shit beat out of him by Zarbon.

Being in the vicinity of Gouldo slurping his fucking soda when the dining room is out of straws.

Frieza.

All things preferable to being trapped on a ship with Captain Moron and his crew of idiots.

Vegeta could feel the tension building behind his left eye. He fought the urge to rub the ache and glanced down at his open palm. Some of his flesh was still pink. Without Frieza's medics on hand he had no access to a regeneration tank.

He wondered if there was any medical staff aboard, but he knew the answer before he'd formed the thought.

Goku's crew needed credits, and they could barely afford food nevermind expensive medical equipment. Regeneration tanks were a luxury, and one that he didn't require anyway.

He would heal, and be even stronger because of it.

Three raps resonated at his door and he stood, just as the door was thrown open and the blue haired woman stood in it's place. She was frowning at him.

He didn't even have to alter his facial expression to scowl back.

"Isn't the point of knocking to await a response?"

"Sorry. I must've left my manners with my regard for your feelings," she replied, a saccharine smile tugging at her lips.

"Unsurprising."

"Besides, I figure you could either be hiding something," she continued, "and if that's the case, barging in on you would be to my favor. Or, you'd be naked. And trust me, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

Lewd woman she was, her eyes dropped from his chest to his waist and lower still, and Vegeta felt heat climbing his neck.

"Anywho, there's breakfast in the kitchen. Chichi cooked before heading off, so it's actually decent and you should do yourself a favor and grab some before Goku wakes up."

He lifted a single brow, showing how she tested his patience. Warning her to leave. Bulma rested a hand on her hip and went on like she had no clue she was annoying him. Or she just didn't care.

Vegeta would bet all his credits the latter. This ship's mechanic- whose name he'd failed to remember, as he did all inconsequential information- was rapidly rising on his list of people to slaughter when he got around to it.

"Oh, and I'm fixing the gravity in the training room after breakfast, so it should be ready to use again in a few hours. If Goku doesn't get his hands on the control panel and wreck it." Her lips, full and red, puckered. "Again."

His interest piqued.

"There are training facilities aboard?"

Her laughter was tossed around his empty room.

"I wouldn't call them _facilities,_ exactly, but we've got a cargo bay down below and a pretty sizable training area that I've rigged with my own special touch."

"And that would be...?"

Bulma grinned. She didn't want to get excited around Vegeta, but she couldn't help herself. She _liked_ showing off in front of people. Even if those people were complete dickheads. But once not so very long ago, Vegeta had been an important member of Frieza's legion. She wanted to see his expression when he saw how superior her training room was against the millions of people and credits the lizard lord had at his disposal.

And, sure, outwardly Vegeta remained impassive as his dark eyes took in the space. Sparse though it was, she'd scrounged up the highest quality metal they couldn't afford in order to reinforce the area. It wasn't as tall as she'd like... Bulma had contemplated eliminating two of the ship's bedrooms to allow for more headroom, but they didn't have the space.

Resisting the urge to spread her arms and shout ' _ta-da_ ,' Bulma bit her lower lip and said,

"Well?"

"Should I be impressed?"

"Not yet," she conceded, and then she took a few steps toward the control panel and tapped her fingers against the gridded screen. Her fingers shook with anticipation. "But I haven't shown you what it can do yet."

...

Chichi tugged at the sleeves of her yukata and smiled politely at the diplomats in the room, careful to make eye contact with each in turn. It was a casual event where politics were discussed along with the current events of the Trade Federation. Many of the diplomats in the room had helped fund Goku's war- the war on the Alliance- but had taken advantage of the spoils that came at the fall of the Colds.

She passed out petit fours and exotic fruits and rubbed elbows with some of the most powerful men in the universe. She contemplated stealing a strawberry for Bulma, but now wasn't the time.

Blending in with the other Companions, Chichi kept her eyes empty and her lips upturned. She poured tea and listened to gossip, hoping for something, anything to slip. Any morsel of something that would help Goku in his fight.

But nothing did, and when she'd return to _Shenron_ later that evening, she'd have contributed nothing to the crew.

….

His wife slapped something on the table top, tearing Krillin from his daydreams. It took a couple blinks for his eyes to focus, and when he did, 18's snarl filled his vision.

"Uh," Goku said, stopping the shoveling of rice into his mouth long enough to glance at the paper pressed between 18's hand and their dining table. "What's that?"

"Our budget. You idiots spent _half our funds_ on food and that damn dinner theatre I told you we couldn't afford! After our next fuel up, we'll be in the red." Her icy demeanor never shifted, but her eyes did. From the Captain to her husband and back again. "Again."

"Well, when we stop for fuel next, why don't we pick up a couple passengers?"

18 scoffed. " _Shenron_ isn't a taxi."

"True. But we need the money…" He let his words trail off. Krillin was well aware that arguing with 18 was futile. She didn't want a solution; she wanted to bitch. "Goku, any other ideas?"

Scratching his head at having the attention volleyed his direction, Goku said, "We could pick up passengers at Aladreis?"

"Fine," 18 snapped, snatching the budget from the table and heaving a sigh. "But no more all-you-can-eat dinner theatres, idiots."

The sound of heavy boots on the ladder rungs followed by Bulma's messy curls and beaming smile shifted the conversation.

"Any idea when Chichi'll be back?" Bulma asked, dropping into an empty chair and reaching to slice off a chunk of dried fruit leather. She tried not to think of Chichi off wining and dining on a distant ship. Eating real fruit and meat and chocolate. She was jealous, sure, but had never been interested- or able, for that matter- to fake being demure and agreeable for any amount of time.

The fruit leather was… dry. As her jaw worked around the thick slice, she contemplated how many vitamins had made it into the starchy hunk. Goku ate his rice, even as the conversation shifted to their Companion. And even though she knew she shouldn't, Bulma watched him. When Chichi had gone to meet a client for… whatever she did, Goku pretended he didn't understand. Or maybe he wasn't pretending.

She wouldn't be too surprised to discover that he didn't know. He was… innocent, to put it nicely. Naive, maybe. Dumb and oblivious and quite possibly a-sexual, if she was being honest with herself.

"Later," Goku snapped and, Bulma couldn't help but notice, there was a touch of bitterness on his tongue. Something she noted that sounded a lot like… jealousy.

Bulma blinked. Maybe he did know after all.

Pushing his empty plate back and getting to his feet, he passed Bulma on his way to the ladder, pausing only to say, "We're going to pick up passengers on Aladreis."

"O-kay," she replied, watching him go with another blink.

Krillin concentrated on the budget his wife had shoved under his nose.

Bulma chewed her lip and caught 18 watching their captain descend the ladder. When 18 looked her way, the two women shared knowing grins.

…

He'd always been an outsider. With his soldiers, with his men, with this… crew. Not _his_ crew. But this gaggle of idiots surrounding him as he hitched a ride from Point A to Point B. He didn't mind being set apart, being… out of place.

The things he _did_ care about were more consequential than his place in this universe, anyway. Things like knowing somehow Zarbon was alive. How Frieza's second-in-command had survived the war was impossible enough, but the fact he was piloting missions with Kakarot and his band of do-gooders and idiots- allied factions, their sworn enemies- was bad enough.

And yet, here they were.

"Hey Vegeta," a voice said, pulling him from his revere.

Kakarot stood in the doorway, blocking it with his giant, very-Saiyan frame. Vegeta stilled. As much as Kakarot might look Saiyan, he was so in blood only. He had no recollection of their home, no allegiance to their people, and obviously no respect for their throne. And besides, during the war he'd been their enemy. And while the war was long over, Vegeta held onto grudges longer than most.

"Bulma told me you're a jackass," Kakarot said, in lieu of greeting. Vegeta wasn't sure which one Bulma was, but he'd been equal parts jackass to all members of their crew, so it could've been anyone. "The others, they don't trust you either. You could try being… nicer." And flashing both rows of white teeth in some foreign, friendly expression that didn't belong on any Saiyan's features, Kakarot laughed.

Vegeta felt the pesky vein in his forehead throb.

"I'm not going to be _nice_ to anyone." And, dismissing the subject, he asked, "What does Zarbon want?"

"Uh." Kakarot scratched behind his ear and shrugged. He was either a convincing actor or an honest-to-Kai idiot. "He wants a ship delivered to him on Chrono. Something the Alliance can't track."

Any legal ship would be trackable by the Alliance. Sure, Vegeta wasn't so naive to believe that those types of ships weren't built on black market planets. But smuggling one to Chrono, an Alliance hotbed? It was a suicide mission.

"I'm not flying an illegal ship into Chrono with you idiots," Vegeta spat. He wasn't a coward, he just wasn't a complete and total imbecile. There was a difference.

Kakarot laughed and waved the suggestion off with his hand. "We're not dumb enough to fly the ship into port on Chrono, Vegeta. That's an Alliance city!"

"Hmph. So you're going to try and _sneak_ a ship planetside?"

"Yep."

"And, Kakarot, how would you manage that?"

He grinned. "Just leave the details to Bulma."

Vegeta grunted, realizing for the first time that the blue haired mechanic was most likely Bulma. She was the only one aboard this ship with half a brain. But that didn't mean he trusted her. Since the empire had come crumbling around his ears, Vegeta's feet remained firmly rooted in the 'Don't Trust Anyone' camp.

"Oh, by the way, I'm going to need you to be extra nice," Kakarot continued, as though he had any authority to make a request like that. "We're going to be picking up passengers at Aladreis to make some extra money. It'll be crowded for a bit, but we need the credits."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I'd originally planned on this being a oneshot but… I couldn't help myself. Space Cowboy Vegeta is just too yummy.
> 
> Promise not to make you wait a million years for the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Vegeta doesn't have a mom to worry after him so in my headcanon Nappa ships him knit caps that he begrudgingly wears with pride.
> 
> I know, this is completely ridiculous. And I should probably apologize for it. :D


End file.
